


seductive reasoning

by unsungillumination



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Kissing, M/M, bad kissing, commission, contrivedness of the best variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 02:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22128838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsungillumination/pseuds/unsungillumination
Summary: “No girl’s gonna hook up with me if they think it’s gonna breakPrince Dimitri’s heart,” Sylvain had complained, and Dorothea had winked at him and said, “That’s the idea, Sylvie.”or: dimitri kisses sylvain, badly, leaving sylvain to wonder why he's fixated on the bad kiss (which, by the way, was bad) for days after.(commission for ren@kairoskairoon twitter!)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain&Ingrid
Comments: 34
Kudos: 532





	seductive reasoning

**Author's Note:**

> [ren](https://twitter.com/kairoskairo): dimivain kiss and it’s terrible.. or is it? B)
> 
> haha hey so i know you told me to just keep the extra $$ but fun fact i did not do that instead i took the amount you gave me and wrote? double? as much? as that? dimivain rights hope you like good god this is dumb

First order of business—it was a bad kiss.

This, above everything else, is the fact Sylvain needs most to drive home. It’s far from the most unbelievable part of the story. Dimitri, after all, is sweet and innocent and chaste, and probably has about as much experience kissing as Felix—which is to say, none—but even for the blushing virgin that Dimitri is the kiss was—

“Do I need to hear this part,” says Ingrid, already looking extremely tired of him. A new record. Sylvain has only been talking for about twenty seconds.

“It’s important,” he insists anyway. “Dimitri’s shit at kissing.”

“You,” Ingrid grits out, “haven’t even _told_ me why you were kissing Dimitri.”

“I _didn’t_ kiss Dimitri,” Sylvain insists, frowning. “You gotta let me finish. _He_ kissed _me_.”

He evaluates her unconvinced face and says, “Okay, let me explain.”

(Ingrid, tired of him, does not let him explain, and walks off, so his new options are to mull it over in his own miserable head or ask Felix.)

The events, as they occurred on the seventh day of the Horsebow Moon, ordered and mulled over by Sylvain’s own miserable head:

1) Sylvain, in the Dining Hall, is deep in conversation with some pretty thing from the year below.

2) Dimitri marches up to him in said Dining Hall.

3) Dimitri says, “Sylvain!” with that nervous little tremble in his voice which means he’s about to make some kind of Sweeping Declaration in his princely-yet-perpetually-anxious way.

4) Sylvain turns around to say, “Yeah, buddy?”

5) Dimitri kisses him, badly.

Sylvain’s miserable head pauses. Sylvain needs a break to process this.

6) The Dining Hall, much like Sylvain’s miserable head wishes it could be, is suddenly very quiet.

7) Dimitri says, bright red, “I’m sorry, Sylvain, but I couldn’t hide it any longer!” And then, “Um!” And then, “Th-there’s no need to respond!”

8) And then, more quietly: “I truly am sorry! Um, it’s for your own good… I think.”

9) And then marches off in silence, blushing furiously.

10) At which point the girl Sylvain had been talking to makes an awkward excuse and flees, with the last of Sylvain’s braincells.

  


* * *

  


Sylvain traps Ingrid again two days later to inform her that he’s figured out why Dimitri kissed him.

“I thought it was Dorothea’s fault,” Ingrid says, tired again, having already been trapped by him twice in the past two days to discuss this matter, about which she does not care, as she has repeatedly informed him. (The story so far: It was Dorothea’s fault.)

“Yes,” says Sylvain impressively, “but it’s also _Claude’s_ fault.”

Claude, it transpires, had overheard Dorothea and Dimitri’s conversation (recall: the conversation of Fault), which as far as Sylvain knows, had gone something like this:

Dorothea: Why, Your Highness, you look so terribly blue. Whatever could be the matter?

Dimitri: Ah, Dorothea. I’m afraid I am concerned because Sylvain is an irresistible bachelor who uses his incredible charm and handsomeness to woo every girl in the area, understandably, because he is so charming.

“That’s not what Dimitri said,” Ingrid says, not bothering to look up.

“You weren’t there,” sniffs Sylvain.

“I bet he said something like this,” says Ingrid.

Dimitri: Ah, Dorothea. I’m afraid I am concerned because Sylvain is a hopeless slut.

“You know what, fine,” says Sylvain.

At which point Claude had interrupted the conversation and informed Dimitri that what he really ought to do is remove Sylvain from the market. And Dimitri, bless him, had cocked his little princely head and said, “How do I do that?” And Claude and Dorothea had looked at each other, and Dorothea said, “What better way than to claim he’s taken by the Crown Prince?”

Obviously, as Dorothea had smugly explained to Sylvain, there was more to it than this—a layer that sweet Dimitri, poor dear, could not possibly conceive of:

“No girl’s gonna hook up with me if they think it’s gonna break _Prince Dimitri’s_ heart,” Sylvain had complained, and Dorothea had winked at him and said, “That’s the idea, Sylvie.”

(Whatever else he’s thinking toward her right now, he has to admit—the girl is good.)

Then he’d asked why Dorothea and Claude had a stake in stopping Sylvain from living his life at all, to which Dorothea shrugged and said, “Why not?”

Now, to a deeply unimpressed Ingrid, Sylvain says, “Can you believe that? They totally ruined my love life. And he didn’t even have the decency to do it well. Like, he sealed my fate with the worst kiss of all time. Inky—it was such a bad kiss.”

“Okay,” says Ingrid, tired.

“No, seriously,” says Sylvain, seriously, because this is a serious issue. “I’m _worried_ about the guy. It was like kissing a fish. A not-alive-anymore fish. Wearing a banana peel for a wig. He has no technique. It’s like—”

“Sylvain,” says Ingrid.

“—kissing is supposed to be nice, right? And you’d think kissing Dimitri would be pretty nice, right? I mean, he’s an attractive guy. I should be able to have fun with that. But he’s so bad at it, it was like, only _kinda_ fun. I mean, it was fun, but—”

“ _Sylvain_ ,” says Ingrid, and Sylvain says, “What,” and Ingrid says, “Don’t you think you’re fixating a little on this kiss?”

“Huh?” Sylvain blinks at her. “Shouldn’t I? Are you not _listening_? _Dimitri_ kissed me. Dimitri, like, we met him when he was in diapers Dimitri. I’ve seen him eat his own snot Dimitri. Kissed me. Why _aren’t_ you obsessed with this? To ruin my life. Don’t you think I have a right to be a little upset? And he was bad at it, did I mention?”

“You did,” says Ingrid, “several times, and that’s what I’m saying. If that’s it, why are you so obsessed with the kiss being _good_? I mean, it’s not like he was kissing you for _real_ , he wouldn’t have been putting effort into it, or anything.”

Sylvain is actually lost for words at this, but he also has never nor _will_ he ever let this stop him from _saying_ words, so he says, “Why wouldn’t he put effort into it? Does he not want to kiss me?” And Ingrid levels a look so devastating at him that he actually feels a little embarrassed that he can’t even tell _which_ part of his statement she had deemed deserving.

  


* * *

  


Felix does hit him when Sylvain asks for his thoughts, so he returns to his first instinct of don’t ask Felix for advice about kissing.

  


* * *

  


Dimitri approaches him a few days later to commend him, and Sylvain’s first reaction is, “Huh,” and his second reaction is, “You mean, on kissing?”

Dimitri, now incredibly flustered: “Um. No. I meant on your new behaviour. I really did feel bad about that, by the way, Sylvain, but your behaviour was starting to border on unacceptable, and I felt I had to do something as your house leader.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking nervous. “I’m glad you’re not upset with me. I wouldn’t have begrudged you if you had been.”

“What,” says Sylvain. “No, dude, I’m never upset with you.”

Dimitri looks a little relieved. “I’m glad—”

“What do you mean, my new behaviour?” Sylvain asks.

Dimitri blinks. “There’s no need to be shy,” he says, smiling. “I haven’t seen you out—er—philandering in a good week or so. I expected to”—he looks guilty again—“see you get shot down a few times, but it truly makes me happy that you don’t seem to be behaving as erratically at all. I’m proud of you.”

“Uh,” says Sylvain, “thanks.”

Dimitri rests a hand on his shoulder and goes.

“What did that mean,” Sylvain asks Felix, who looks extremely close to socking him in the stomach again for the grave injustice of having to Stand Near Sylvain While He Is Himself. “Am I being different?”

Felix, faced with an opportunity to judge Sylvain’s behaviour, pauses his violence impulse. “I suppose you’ve been less of a whore lately,” he says consideringly.

“Thanks,” says Sylvain.

Felix grunts, which means, _Sure_. Then does sock Sylvain in the stomach, albeit lightly, out of consideration for their deep friendship.

  


* * *

  


A new question: Why had Sylvain’s mind jumped straight to the kiss, when Dimitri complimented him?

  


* * *

  


Also: Why is he still thinking about the kiss?

  


* * *

  


It wasn’t even a good kiss. Did he mention that? It was a bad kiss. Dimitri is bad at kissing.

  


* * *

  


“You’re bad at kissing,” Sylvain informs Dimitri, who actually looks incredibly miffed, especially since his question had not been ‘am I good at kissing’ but in fact had been ‘would you like to share a table for lunch, Sylvain’. “No offence, Your Highness.”

“How am I supposed to not take—” Dimitri splutters, “and, Sylvain—was that your only takeaway?!”

It has been a day since their last conversation. Sylvain has helpfully spent all night mulling it over in his own miserable head and has reached the conclusion that—“Hey, I’m trying to help. You’re gonna need to hone those skills if you’re gonna be the king of Faerghus. Polish up with puckering up.”

“I fail to see how those are remotely connected,” Dimitri says.

“Exactly,” says Sylvain, “which is why you need my help. C’mon. If you let me help you, I’ll cool it on the flirting—it’s win-win.”

Oops. Sylvain braces for ‘what would you be winning, Sylvain’, which he can’t answer, because he doesn’t know what, exactly, he would be winning, except that his brain has been spinning all night with Operation: Kiss Dimitri Again and refusing to explain exactly why this operation must be set into motion at all—but luckily Dimitri is too busy being flustered to notice that Sylvain has, in effect, confessed that that sham of a kiss could be considered a victory.

“What are you suggesting,” Dimitri finally manages, reaching for a glass of water and accidentally crushing it.

“You know,” says Sylvain. This is it! The big idea! His genius conclusion! “Kissing lessons.”

Ingrid, two seats away from him, audibly groans into her pot roast. Felix looks like he wants to stab one of them or possibly himself and hasn’t decided who yet.

“Kissing,” says Dimitri, “lessons.”

Sylvain makes a kissy noise.

“And you will stop… coquetting so wildly, if I agree?” asks Dimitri.

_Coquetting_ , says the part of Sylvain’s brain which always kind of wants to dunk Dimitri’s head into a washbasin, lovingly. “Yeah,” says Sylvain. “Hey, I kept my end of the deal last time, right?”

“Right,” Dimitri agrees uncertainly. “Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. You”—he blushes furiously again—“certainly have, skills, that I lack.”

“You suck,” Sylvain supplies.

Dimitri looks mortified. “Fine,” he says. “I—fine. I concede to—um, that is, I will meet you in your room? Later?”

“Sure,” says Sylvain. “Looking forward to it, Your Highness.”

He winks. For an unknown reason, something in his chest is singing. Down the table, Ingrid says, “Oy,” and snatches a pheasant leg off Felix’s plate, presumably to cope.

  


* * *

  


Hmm. Why was this a victory, again?

  


* * *

  


(It’s only later, when Dimitri shows up at his door, smelling strongly of peppermint, carrying one thing of lip balm for himself and one for Sylvain, looking terribly embarrassed and looking slightly more endearing than he has any right to, that something finally clicks and Sylvain’s brain goes _ohhhhhh, so_ that’s _why_.)

**Author's Note:**

> [dabs come find me on twitter @corviiid talk dimivain to me baby](https://twitter.com/corviiid)


End file.
